A therapist's take on life, the world, you and me.

Alone in a crowd

Last week I did a first session with a typical client – a young lawyer worried about starting at a big firm.

I couldn’t do real psychotherapy with this guy. Some lawyers are like that – they don’t trust anyone enough to open up. It was more like an awkward coaching session. When I tried to explore his feelings, he cut me off and got down to business.

He was fine, he assured me. He’d already decided he was going to take the money. He just wanted some advice. Then he related bad experiences from the summer program, and asked for my take on big firm life.

I suggested ways to maintain emotional insulation from the worst aspects of a big firm. I also proposed that he do psychotherapy, and maybe group psychotherapy, for emotional support while he was there. This didn’t make much of an impression. His mind seemed elsewhere.

He mentioned wistfully that he “wanted to be a writer, but couldn’t make a decent living at it.” I waited for more, but he changed the subject.

Eventually he left my office, and I thought that’s that. I’d never hear from him again – another unhappy lawyer who’d contacted me in a moment of weakness, then retreated back to his cave, alone.

The next day I received an email that pretended to be a thank you, but was really a warning from this guy not to mention his story in my column. It was a curt, condescending note which ended like a law firm letter, with “best regards.” Only a lawyer could write a note like that to a therapist.

I’ve received a few of these threatening notes over the years. I consider them a by-product of working with lawyers.

I know what you’re thinking. Yes, I’m a therapist, and I charge people for my services. And of course I disguise identities in this column to preserve confidentiality. He has a right to send me any letter he wants, and to have his confidentiality preserved.

But there’s a larger issue here. Trust. And sharing. And honesty.

My column and my work as a psychotherapist are intended to help people. I work with plenty of patients – most of them non-lawyers – who open up to me and find relief.

It’s always tougher with lawyers. They hesitate to trust anyone. That makes things harder for me – but incalculably harder for them.

Big firm attorneys live in a closet. Inauthenticity is the rule at these firms – it pervades the culture. No one admits what they’re feeling because no one is supposed to trust anyone else. The result is isolation, which exacerbates every other toxic element of that life.

One of my patients said she broke down in tears last week in the bathroom stall at her firm, after a partner tore into her for some screw-up. She chose the bathroom because of her firm’s “open door policy.” She wasn’t allowed to close her office door for privacy.

I asked her how everyone else at her firm was holding up.

She shrugged.

“Fine, I guess.”

According to her, about two-thirds of the associates were fleeing after three years. I doubt they’re all doing fine.

Lawyers are good at hiding things. Especially how they feel.

Once in a while, I receive a letter or comment on my website that says: Mr. Meyerhofer, here’s my story. I want to share it so others know what I’ve been through.

It would be nice to receive more of those notes – and fewer threats.

I’ll probably receive a letter this week from someone complaining I wrote a column about him.

You’re so vain. You probably think this column is about you.

But this column IS about you: all of you. All of you, my fellow lawyers.

I listen to unhappy lawyers all week long. Then I receive stern messages commanding me not to tell anyone else what’s going on out there. That’s ridiculous.

If you’re feeling the way you’re feeling – someone else is too.

Don’t let them isolate you. Take a risk and open up. Walk to the office next door, sit down, and talk to a colleague. Compare notes. Share your experiences.

That’s what you do in therapy – take the risk of being present, and speaking your truth.

It’s no great secret that there’s a lot of unhappiness at big law firms, or that this profession is in a crisis with the economy in recession, or that firms exploit and mistreat associates. Many people are angry and frightened and wracked with doubt over their decision to become a lawyer.

It shows strength to show weakness. And there’s no shame in admitting you’re human.

So break the sacred taboo already and talk about it. Join forces and support one another.

Please bring me your stories, and post them on the website. Let’s have a conversation about what’s really going on – and the toll it’s taking.

I guarantee you’re not alone.

[Editor’s note: this piece is part of a series of columns created by The People’s Therapist in cooperation with AboveTheLaw.com. My thanks to ATL for their help with the creation of this series.]If you enjoy these columns, please check out The People’s Therapist’s new book.

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53 Responses

I’ve been out of school for a while, and I’ve done all right – made income partner a few years ago at my original BigLaw firm, then jumped to another one that’s a better fit. The last couple of years I’ve gotten progressively more dissatisfied – as my responsibilities for managing cases and people increased, my ability to deal with my job in anything other than crisis mode has gotten progressively worse. I was always the associate whose office was drowning in paper who always put briefs off until the last minute but managed to pull it out in time for the filing deadline. In the last couple of years, though, I became the partner who sat on associates’ drafts for weeks before turning around a stack of comments the morning before filing. In the last couple of weeks I started to get a handle on what the real problem was, and yesterday my doctor agreed with me and diagnosed me with ADHD and wrote me a prescription. Up until that moment, I never discussed any of this with anyone other than my wife, certainly no one at the firm. Yesterday, I told one of my partners, a guy I was friends with before I came over here, about the diagnosis and the drugs. He was surprised but supportive, and I’m glad to have at least one person here who has some idea what’s going on.

Message to the associates out there: that partner you think has ADD probably does…

Thanks for opening up. I’m sure there will be a lot of people reading this comment today, and over the next few days and weeks, who will feel a little less alone. I appreciate – and respect – your honesty.

I really think it is inappropriate for you to share the story of someone who specifically told you not to. My therapist would never do that. I am open with people about going to see a therapist, particularly because I think it encourages other people who need help to realize it is okay to get it, that someone who they view (well, probably, since these are my friends) as pretty with it is willing to get help.

But what details to share and with whom about my therapy is up to me. She did ask, and I did give her, permission to share something I had told her in session as long as she anonymized it.

Since trust is so important, you should earn that trust by respecting peoples’ confidence. If your patients aren’t opening up to you, maybe it is because you aren’t giving them enough time, and are jumping in too soon with recommendations. Actually, how the hell do I know, I haven’t been in session with you. But all the same, you really shouldn’t break confidence, particularly when people ask you not to. It would be another thing to broadly talk about lawyers being obsessed with confidentiality, and not opening up, and pretending everything is fine, but when you personalize the posting down to the signature line (yeah, we all use that, but some person/people reading your blog will probably feel the shock of recognition/betrayal), it at least creates the impression that you are violating confidentiality. Which may harm your practice. And it should.

In fact, the semi-fictional “client” in this column could be any of five or six different people I’ve seen over the past few months. The details have been changed so it doesn’t actually reflect any one person’s situation. My point was that we all share far more than we might realize in common, and that it would make sense to do more sharing – not less. That way, we’d all benefit.

By framing the column as I did – dealing with one particular client – I was hoping to provoke some responses – and bring attention to the issue of self-isolation in the legal profession. It could have been any of several clients I’ve seen lately. I make that clear in the column.

As for jumping in with too many responses…some people aren’t ready for psychotherapy – it’s impossible to achieve a therapeutic join. I do supervision and I know you can always second-guess a session – I do it all the time. But you can’t force someone to open up. I did plenty of listening, but I was asked for advice, and I offered it. Then I let that person go and live his life. If and when he’s ready, he’ll find me again – or another therapist. That’s his right.

That’s fine–but instead of talking about general trends you’ve noticed among clients, you make this story very personalized *as though* you were writing about a specific client whether you were or not. I did read the whole column, and you wrote it in such a way that someone (perhaps several someones) are going to feel that “this song is about them” which is a rotten thing for you to do.

Yes, we should share more, but people themselves need to decide what to share. Otherwise it is a violation.

That kind of backs me into a corner, doesn’t it? There is no real “composite client” – he’s a fabrication. But there are a bunch of lawyers out there who are terrified to open up and share their experiences – even in a totally anonymous way. If I honored all those emails warning me not to write about these guys, I couldn’t write a column about these guys who warn me not to write about them, could I? It’s circular. They’d ALL think I’m writing about them. In fact, I AM writing about ALL of them, all of them at once – AND our profession as a whole. Wouldn’t it be a better world if we lawyers DID open up and share?

After reading this my opinion about most lawyers has been confirmed; most of you become lawyers and join big firms for the wrong reasons. Power, prestige, and money. None of those things will make you happy.

Either you are kidding (i hope) or very small-minded. Sounds like you have watched too many episodes of Law and Order and so think all lawyers are ambition-driven and greedy. The truth is, most lawyers are just trying to find a good way to make a living like everyone else in the world. It’s another way to make money. I took out a huge amount of money in student loans that I will be paying off probably for the rest of my life because I knew that I would be able to have a good job afterward. Most lawyers I work with don’t think “power, prestige, and money” make them happy; they just want to be able to buy a house and raise a family without having to stress about bills every month. Quit letting TV and movies do your thinking for you.

In my defense, please keep in mind that I AM A LAWYER. And I put in a few years at a top NYC firm. I also work with a practice in which many of my clients are lawyers. I write from my own – and their – experience.

I am currently a 3L at a top 3 school and I found that the isolation and lack of trust began the first year of law school. From day one everyone puts on a happy face because they feel that they were lucky enough to get into the school so now they have to suck it up and go along with the flow. From my own personal experience, even when I was completely confused and knew I needed help, I was scared to ask anyone for fear that they might think I’m stupid or that I don’t belong here. I also had a series of experiences with classmates who I thought were my friends, but turned out just to be out for themselves. The constant pressure led me to second-guess everything that I did. For about a month, I couldn’t sleep and over the course of the semester I lost about 15 lbs. because I wasn’t hungry. I had never experienced this before, and eventually I took advantage of the mental health services provided by the university. It helped a lot to have a new support system and the last two years have flown by. To be perfectly honest, I don’t even share all the information with my therapist. I filter what I think is important and share only the parts that seem to have some significance. I have shared with a few very close friends that I have a therapist, but I still don’t share a lot of information even with the people that are closest to me. It’s a hard habit to break, but I hope that it will become easier over time.

Not to be a total downer, but work (at least in a firm) will be worse. Not only will you feel like you’re competing with your fellow associates, but the partners will treat you like crap because (a) they’re trying to pass the buck/blame along and (b) it makes them feel good. On the upside – it really isn’t about you.

What many people may not know before joining biglaw is how quiet the office is – I hardly speak to anyone in person as a jr/mid-level associate. The silence is deafening. I didn’t realize this until meeting with a pro bono client who had been locked in solitary confinement at the federal pen. He told me — loosely repeated here: “You don’t understand what it’s like: I’m in a 8×10 cell. I wake up in the morning and read until lunch, then I have 45 minutes outside, come back in and read until dinner. After dinner, I read some more until I’m tired and go to sleep. I don’t see or talk to anyone!” Wait-a-minute… Well, I guess at least I have a window in my “cell.” The flip-side is that when I am speaking to people at work its generally because someone is unhappy about something.

PeoplesTherapist, what does that mean? Are you implying staff, or perhaps secretaries in particular, don’t share the sense of isolation and dysfunction that you describe? I’m a law firm librarian and if you think it sucks being a lawyer in Big Law, try being a staff member.

I hear you. Another law firm staff member already commented to say something along the same lines. When I was at S&C, I spent a lot of time with paras, librarians, secretaries and word-processors (I’m an old graveyard word-processor myself.) And you’re absolutely right – it’s no picnic for staff members, either. Thanks for writing in.

It’s eerie, isn’t it? You get off the train, grab a coffee and muffin, say hi to the receptionist, hang up your coat, and then sit at your desk for five hours writing and reading reading email — until you suddenly look up and it’s 1:00 and as you stand up your knees pop and your back cracks, and you run out for a pit stop and sandwich. And then you go back to your office and do it again for five more hours.

The only break is for conference calls and random people sticking their head in your office saying “Hey, can I pick your brain on this issue? . . . .” and your secretary reminding you that you have a brief due tomorrow morning. Basically no human interaction takes place other than the 5 minutes you get for a “hi how are you” with the girl at Starbucks as you wait for your latte.

I came over to your blog awhile back, with your first ATL posting, which I found to be very insightful. I left a comment on your blog. I have visited several times since. I have even considered calling you for an appointment. But your recent posting on ATL has convinced me not to. Someone asked you to not to blog about his/her experience, and you did. And in a mocking/belitting way.

It’s true–whether it’s because I’m a NYC atty or just b/c that’s how I am–I could very well have been the attorney who had a session with you and then written afterward asking you not to blog about me. (It wasn’t me, but I won’t deny I may have trust issues.) But you just convinced me that you can’t be trusted. I don’t want to be blogged about, especially when I do open up. And I definitely don’t want to be blogged about after I have specifically asked you not to. Whether someone else will recognize that it is me is besides the point. If I were that young attorney, I would feel betrayed. Why you would do that doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t know if it’s an ethical breach, but it’s a personal betrayal to someone who has trusted you enough to open up, even if just a little.

I thought that at first, too, after the Above the law posting. But I think what he said above makes total sense. If he were to write this article, “imagine a situation where…” it wouldn’t be nearly as compelling. If this is something that happens often then I think it’s perfectly fine to create a composite of the event, and blog about it. The “you’re so vain” line is perfect to put that into context.

This is no more revealing than any posting about any other therapy client. The only reason it gets our gander is because we’re lawyers. Which is, I think, entirely the point.

To be perfectly honest – that “composite” guy in the beginning is really a bit of a fake out, to get your attention. He – or she – could be any of a dozen people I’ve seen over the years. I’m trying to make a point here about the power of sharing our experiences – and how scared we can be to risk it.

That “client” didn’t exist. It was only a composite of a bunch of people. I’m not trying to make anyone uncomfortable – except, perhaps, my readers – because I want to wake them up to something insidious about the Big Law world. We hide from one another when we should be sharing our experiences, comparing notes, and supporting one another.

I have been reading your column regularly and you have been a lifesaver. I am a mid-level associate in Biglaw, and have found myself feeling more and more isolated, demoralized, humiliated and depressed as time goes on. I went into Biglaw not for the money, but rather to make myself marketable. I never intended to stay, but sought only to pay off my loans, make contacts, gain experience and have a nice addition to my resume. While my loans have decreased, the only other things I’ve gained have been self-doubt, self-loathing, depression and a paralyzing fear that I will never be able to competently practice law anywhere. I went to law school because I love the law. Biglaw has killed that for me. I now love nothing about the law and instead find myself despising lawyers generally and feeling ashamed that I am a lawyer. I am terrified that this is just the nature of practicing law. If it is, it is untenable for me and I must find some other profession to pursue. But even if I am lucky enough to find another profession that will have me, I fear I will enter it with the lowliest of skill sets, talent and intellect. After my years in Biglaw, I feel I have nothing left to offer any profession or job. I feel worthless, ashamed and alone. Your blog, however, has helped assuage those fears bit by bit, and has helped me feel less alone. It is clear that I am not the only one this has happened to. I encourage other Biglaw associates who feel like I do, to get out. It is simply not worth it. Nothing is.

I felt that way too – a worthless failure. But that’s just the effect of the Big Law environment. You are full of value, and you are utterly unique. Be who you truly are – and find the work that expresses your authentic identity. That’s when you’ll feel joy returning to your life.

How is any man supposed to open up and trust the psychotherapist, particularly when his own untrusting nature is probably what is getting him in there in the first place?
I’m making the steps, have left law, have begun seeing a therapist, etc etc, but I find the bonding process to be very slow. I’m naturally apprehensive about the therapist’s own motivations/qualifications/judgments, but even casting that aside, I don’t know how to open up more.

I’m not a dancer or a painter. I’ve lived how I live for 30+ years. I’m not sure how to get past the first hurdle.

I am well aware that it is an honor and a privilege to do what I do as a psychotherapist, which is to sit and listen to people’s stories. You can’t rush the process – you must feel ready before you can take the leap to tell your story to someone else. I guess my hope is that this column, and – mostly – the comments other lawyers have posted here – will help you to get where you need to be. I wish you all good things. Thanks for sharing with us here.

Will – As a recovering biglaw attorney, I have really enjoyed your analysis of the psychological effects of the biglaw environment. I have often been amazed at just how little most biglaw attorneys are willing to share with their colleagues – not just emotions but even less personal things like talking about compensation or workflow concerns. It really is an isolating experience. And like you said in a previous post, no one outside of biglaw wants to hear complaints. My advice to anyone in biglaw is to try to find at least one colleague you can really talk to, it makes it all so much easier to bear.

Absolutely. I had a particular friend at S&C – another associate. I remember going to his office, shutting the door, and putting some piano music on his cd player – he was a musician – and just relaxing and feeling like I could open up and talk. It made all the difference during the rough patches. We have to trust one another enough to support one another – or we all lose.

As one commenter’s story has already illustrated, the problems aren’t confined to practicing lawyers; they start all the way back in law school.

One of my law school classmates and best friends took his own life shortly after my class graduated. He had been suffering from severe depression, but he had hidden it from all of us — from his classmates, from his closest friends, and even from his immediate family. We didn’t know how to recognize his depression, and he didn’t know how to tell us about it.

There’s a foundation named after him — the Dave Nee Foundation — that has started an initiative called Uncommon Counsel, a program intended to fight depression and prevent suicide among law students. The Foundation’s website is at http://www.daveneefoundation.com, and it includes a page about Uncommon Counsel containing information about depression among law students and lawyers, and resources for law students and lawyers who are concerned about themselves, a classmate, or a colleague.

–Patients can’t handle interpretations. If your sessions resemble “coaching sessions,” then you are doing it wrong.

–Good therapists work through treatment destructive resistances. If your patient leaves, then you failed.

–CHECK YOUR COUNTERTRANSFERENCE.

–Your post indicates a need to gratify yourself, not help your patient. You’re sort of like the overbearing parent who drives her kid to be a miserable hot-shot lawyer so she can feel smug. CHECK YOUR MALPRACTICE INSURANCE.

-I am a real therapist, too. I studied with some wonderful clinicians, and I owe them a great deal.
-Interpretations are integral to good therapy. To say patients can’t handle them is condescending as well as incorrect. A therapist is another person using techniques of psychotherapy to help someone gain awareness of their thoughts and feelings. I’m not a wizard behind a curtain, and my patients can handle hearing what I’m thinking and can understand how I do my work. I don’t condescend to my patients.
-working through a treatment destructive resistance is one thing. Forcing someone who isn’t even in treatment yet to stay in treatment when there is no therapeutic join established is simply wrong. Someone will do therapy if and when he is ready. I don’t force my work on anyone.
-If a patient leaves, you have not failed. That patient might not be ready for this work. It might be where they are right now, and I respect that, like a good therapist should. When I was still struggling to tolerate the psychotherapeutic arrangement myself, I fled several good therapists. I still remember them, and I appreciated their letting me leave without imposing a judgment, and I thought long and hard about those encounters, and they made my later work with other therapists possible.
-I am well aware of my countertransference, which is anger and disgust at the situation I’m writing about. It bothers me as a former lawyer to see my colleagues suffering and afraid to talk about it, which makes things worse for everyone. I wish they were ready to open up and share – and I’m hoping this column encourages that process by being challenging and provocative and heart-felt.
-My malpractice insurance is up to date and paid in full.
-You are welcome to report my writing about a fictional composite patient with no identifiable information to the state. However, they will most likely find it puzzling and ask you what you’re thinking.

Who are you? You seem very very angry – which is fine. I welcome your anger. But now that you have discharged it at me, I would appreciate if you would join our discussion of the isolation and pain faced by many people in the legal profession. There’s work to be done helping people – like a real therapist. I’ve had enough attacking and hurting for a lifetime. Okay? Please, sit down and talk. I’m not the enemy. I might approach our work differently from you, but I’m a colleague and a friend.

Well, then maybe write about a successful client who was able to finally open up and trust, and mention that so many others don’t even get that far and are really afraid of their privacy being breached. Even a longer, clearer, more respectful disclaimer might have done the trick. Bringing up Carly Simon is, at best, kind of mean.

Instead you’ve written a column that probably gives some people a sick feeling in the pit of their stomach because they feel that their trust is being abused–which is exactly what they expected. Of those who do think this column is about them, how many do you think are going to feel more trusting of therapists in the future?

I’m willing to be open about my own therapy experience, which has been really positive. But I’m not willing to violate other peoples’ confidences, and I’m not even a therapist.

Again, I think what you did was deeply inappropriate, and hurtful to those who you are supposed to be helping.

I found that the “In-House Counseling: Alone in a Crowd” posting on ATL and continued here struck a cord with me. I empathize with the female patient described; I, too, have broken down in tears many a time after my supervising attorneys rip through my work. Sometimes that bathroom stall looks like a refuge – a place where, for a while at least, you can close the door to critique and criticism.

One other note. I’ve heard it said that the attributes that aid in success in the law can be contrary to those needed for good mental health. Long stretches of time spent in isolation and concentration, constant skepticism, and emotional detachment spring to mind. On the one hand, while I do not relish the bitingly long hours alone spent researching, working, editing, perfecting, my willingness to engage in this behavior has, I believe, resulted in my becoming a better writer, a better analyzer, a better thinker, in short, a better lawyer. Constant skepticism pervades not only my work but my life and makes enjoyment of everything from jokes to television programs a near impossibility and a constant exercise in over-thinking. And yet, it is exactly that attribute – the willingness to doubt, to question everything, to not take matters at face value – that has been so critical in helping me to reason my way through tough assignments. So too with emotional detachment; being skilled at it allows me to face difficult cases and horrific facts; yet, I’m sure I appear to others cold and calculating.

Trying to explain this tension to therapists has been, for me at least, an exercise in constant frustration. While I’ve been encouraged to give “voice to my feelings,” when I, quite logically, in my view, attempt to argue for the merits of these attributes (attributes I’ve internalized and incorporated into my non-work hours), I’ve gotten everything from raised eyebrows to questions about whether I’m committed (enough) to the therapeutic process.

I don’t know how to resolve the tension. On the one hand, I love what I do and I don’t want to have to ever leave this profession, a profession I consider noble and challenging and stimulating and, at which I’ve started to obtain some level of mastery. On the other hand, the silence of those long days is deafening; the lack of human contact, to say nothing of the lack of true human interaction for more than 5 minutes in the hallway, is so isolating. I respect the work that therapists and counselors do. I can’t imagine that it’s easy, and I can’t imagine that working with lawyer patients is easy. And yet, I’m not really sure that there is much a therapist can do. Excellence in this profession demands, in my view, everything. Your time, attention, concentration, patience, intellect, yes, your skepticism and detachment, your willingness to learn how to thrive in zero-sum environments, your ability to work under tight deadlines with precision and flourish. If these are the skills needed for success in the law, shouldn’t a therapist, especially one cognizant of her patient’s passion for the profession, not attempt to dissuade her from developing them?

Or maybe I just need to keep searching for a therapist with whom I have a better fit.

Saw this quote this morning and it reminded me of your blog posts on us biglaw attorneys:
Our greatest pretenses are built up not to hide the evil and the ugly in us, but our emptiness. The hardest thing to hide is something that is not there. -Eric Hoffer, philosopher and author (1902-1983)

Will – I just read your interview on abovethelaw and it was outstanding. I congratulate you on escaping the law firm life intact and in pursuing a career more adept at helping people address that “raw hunger of the soul”.

I’ve been working with Biglaw firms here in Manhattan for 13 years, first as a litigation paralegal (hated it but it got me into what I now enjoy) and for the past 3 years as a trial support analyst (IT). I’ve witnessed so much of what you have and can’t help but notice how many young, brilliant and gifted people choose “the law” as their calling because they don’t know what else to do with their liberal arts degrees. I hope most of them wake up and realize that happiness starts from within, regardless how much you make or what career you choose.

I am a solo practitioner with an office in a working class part of Metro Detroit, where I grew up and still live. I don’t know if the Metro Detroit legal scene is dramatically different from elsewhere in the country but with a metro unemployment rate of 17%+ legal work is becoming increasingly hard to find. I’ve done my stint at small firms, and always felt as less of a lawyer because I was primarily a general practitioner (though in the past I have worked as a Municipal Attorney, Prosecutor and Magistrate). Though now, I see friends of mine losing their big firm jobs and salaries and finding themselves unable to find work. So what do they do? Out of desperation hang out a shingle, go the solo route and bring that big firm mentality to the more mundane areas of the practice of law. Not good.

I suppose this post is veering off point, but with the help of therapy and medication (for my depression), I have come to an acceptance of who I am and what I do. I am here to help people, and my mantra has always been to “do the right thing” which probably cost me my job as a city prosecutor. Luckily I have always practiced bankruptcy law which is now barely keeping me afloat. At this point in my career I thought things would be a little easier, but they have only become more intense with the constant pressure of covering my overhead, paying my secretary and trying to remain financially solvent along with dealing with the sharks and barracudas from the big firms or formerly from big firms who have never come to terms with what it really means to be a lawyer. Enough said.

People, people, really now. Do you think ANY other job is any better than what you’re experiencing? Try life in a corporate cubicle, or in the basement of a state building. And, oh by the way, you’ll only be getting paid about one-fourth what you now make. Or, try being a public high school teacher. If you’re lucky, maybe most of the students respect you; maybe some of their parents do, too. But the legislature cut your salary by 5% last year, so you now make $32,000 a year, minus your 9.5% retirement contribution, taxes, and the out-of-pocket expenses for supplies for your classroom. (I am not making this up.)

Yes. I think other jobs can be better. If a person is passionate about what they do, it won’t matter that they are making less. My spouse actually just quit a 6-figure job to become a public servant, and is very happy with that move. The problem with biglaw is many of us are here not for passion but for paying off our student loans. If I could go “back to the future” I would not attend law school at all and not have $100k in loans over my head, and be very happy doing what I did before I went to law school or something else. (That’s not to say that people without law school debt don’t sometimes get backed into jobs they don’t like, and hopefully the law degree makes a person marketable to be able to navigate the world and land in something they enjoy.)

Imagine being a Black American and having the same issues but even more because of the color of your skin. Imagine, despite having graduated from a top law school and having received an academic scholarship to that Ivy League law school, you are treated in the law school environment as an affirmative action baby. Or to have a law school colleague say to you, “…they (meaning the professors) are padding your grades.” Imagine going to the firm, after having been on a Moot Court winning team; receiving first place with a teammate for a negotiation competition; having been on law review, and still, your colleagues at the firm also think that you are only there by some affirmative action process. Imagine not gettng selected for a clerkship by a judge who brags about not ever having hired a Black clerk. Imagine a colleague at the firm, while studying for the Bar, saying to you, “Shandra, the bar examiners will know you by the way you write.” Just imagine being Black in America in an environment where historically the law has been an enemy and to some extent it still is. Often, when a person (of any ethnicity) asks what I do, I will say, “I work in a law firm.” Their response, 100% of the timne is, “Are you a secretary.” They cannot imagine me being the managing partner.

I love the law. I practice law because I know that it was a chosen destiny, not by me, but by the force that has been guiding me and providing opportunities for me. I relish the opportunity to help clients achieve their goals. I rise above the discriminatory words and actions. I imagine the day when skin color does not matter. Suggestion: read the book Black Like Me. Autor’s last name is Griffin. It may provide a different perspective and for those who have lost their love of the law, I hope it is inspirational.

Shandra – thanks for writing in, and sharing your perspective as an African-American in the legal profession. I have read Black Like Me – in fact, I studied African-American studies while I was at Harvard and the history and literature of African-Americans continues to be one of my personal fascinations. But your comments has educated me about a particular African-American experience and it is an invaluable wake-up call for all of us. Thank you for posting this. Will

The main thing is that you’ve found someone you can work with. Good for you. Now maybe you’ll feel okay opening up to some other lawyers so this culture of secrecy and suspicion can be replaced with openness and the sharing of our experiences.

I have many lawyer friends and I open up to them. I trust them and the only secrets are my clients’ identities. They truly know me. I can’t imagine doing this job without those friends. If you are suggesting that I should share my experiences here, then I’m sorry to disappoint. Emotional needs are rarely satisfied in cyberspace. We need friends in real life. It’s not so hard really. Attorneys build trusting relationships just like everyone else, once we realize that not everyone is opposing counsel. Perhaps a post about how to build trusting relationships would do more good than just complaining about the problem. I had to be taught.

[…] reading if you are one, have been one or want to be one. Here’s an extract from a recent post Alone in a crowd Last week I did a first session with a typical client – a young lawyer worried about starting at […]

After reading this post, I am thankful more than anything else. I graduated nearly two years ago, passed the bar, but have only worked for three months this entire time – at a non-legal job. I have had financial difficulty, but have been fortunate enough to live with my mother, rent-free and expense-free, save for the monthly student loan checks which I will only be able to write for another few months. I do not have a cell phone anymore and less of a social life due to the cost of going out. I have tried and tried to secure a job since I was in law school to no avail. The problem for me is that I had no real interest in the law, and ended up attending since it was the next thing to do and since I was accepted into a top-tier law school. I pushed myself hard enough academically, but not when it came to finding a job.

I see that many at biglaw have lost their sense of self, their soul. I have kept mine and at the same time have managed to imagine what I want my life to be like. Though I am still extremely reluctant to give up on the law and pursue what I want…just yet. It’s difficult to give up on the potential, give up on what others’ including professors saw in me…but at the same time two years have gone by and another two might go by just as quickly. Save for a few frustrating days, I am a happy person overall with many activities and exciting about living life. However, while I understand and empathize with those who have jobs, it is also difficult for those who have no jobs and no income, and while I have maintained my sense of self, my future is very much unstable. Finally, humiliation may be prevalent at biglaw firms, but trust me, it’s also there when you are an attorney working as a secretary at a job way below your pay grade. And just when I thought that was bad, my next “job” is likely to be an unpaid non-legal internship. I apologize for the rant, but the point here is I’m sure there are a lot of people out there, especially recent grads who lack experience, especially in a tough market like NYC, who are in worse financial and possibly mental shape than those at biglaw. Thank you for this post Will, and for your website. There will always be haters, but at the end of the day I believe you are doing MUCH good.

The purpose of this blog appears that a therapist is soliciting crowd-sympathy for his failure to subdue such an unworthy client. To become this guy’s client, better prostrate yourself and surrender in naive, child-like trust. That’s how the therapist wants you.

I don’t think this therapist likes his clients. I think he likes subduing them.

It’s time for your appointment

Will Meyerhofer, JD LCSW-R is a psychotherapist in private practice in TriBeCa, in New York City.
You can visit his private practice website at: www.aquietroom.com.
Will holds degrees from Harvard, NYU School of Law and The Hunter College School of Social Work, and used to be an associate at Sullivan & Cromwell before things changed...
Now, in addition to his work as a psychotherapy, he writes books and blog entries and a column for AboveTheLaw.com.